


(give me a) helping hand

by regrettably



Category: JJCC (Band), Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: M/M, man a canon compliant jjcc produce101 fic, who would've thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrettably/pseuds/regrettably
Summary: Chanyul's nervous, Hadon helps.





	

“You okay, hyung?”

 

He’s nervous.

 

He’s so nervous.

 

It’s stupid, maybe.

 

Well, it’s definitely stupid.  It’s not his first time on stage.  It’s far from his first time on TV.  And he’s going to be one of the oldest people there, he’s supposed to set an example, isn’t he?

 

His smile should be wide and bright, his voice should be firm and confident, he should stand straight, shoulders back, chin up.  He should bow low, wave at the fans, look at the camera, appear “youthful and energetic” (but not too energetic, that would also be wrong).  Above all, he should always be polite, always humble, always perfect.

 

“Hyung?”

 

He shouldn’t shake, he shouldn’t stutter, he shouldn’t sweat, he shouldn’t stare at his feet when he talks, he shouldn’t trip over his words like he always does, he definitely shouldn’t show up looking like he only got two hours of sleep last night even though he spent nearly all the time he should’ve been sleeping lying perfectly still in bed and trying not to wake Daehwan up when all he wanted to do was wake Daehwan up and tell him _everything_ because it’s so hard acting like there’s nothing wrong in front of Daehwan but-

 

“Chanyul.”  A hand reaches out, taps Chanyul gently on the shoulder, and Chanyul jumps, releasing his grip on his chopsticks and they fall out of his hand and clatter across the top of the tiny table in front of him.

 

Chanyul looks up as he scrambles to pick up his utensils.  “Y-yes?”

 

“You okay?”  Hadon asks from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, directly across the table from Chanyul, spoon held loosely in one hand, the other holding up his tired head.

 

His hair is still damp from the shower, his face is very slightly pink in spots from having shaved just a little too close, he’s dressed in sweats and an old shirt and slippers, and he looks for the most part like this is just another normal morning in their dorm and he’s not going to be on camera in front of hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people in just a few short hours.  

 

“Y-yeah,” Chanyul stutters then immediately mentally kicks himself for stuttering, “‘Course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Hmm.”  Hadon doesn’t call Chanyul out on all the reasons why he might not be okay, but he does give a pointed glance down at the untouched bowl of leftovers in front of Chanyul that’s supposed to be his breakfast.  “Not hungry?”

 

Chanyul stares down at his food, a mess of basically everything they had in their fridge that Hadon deemed as edible, and he knows he should eat now because they won’t feed them anything worth eating there.

 

But staring at the mix of rice made at an uncertain date and kimchi from Youngjin’s mom and chicken that Eddy won’t realize is missing until they’re both gone and other less identifiable things that are probably food (he hopes) is just making him nauseous.

 

“No,” Chanyul sighs, pushes his bowl in Hadon’s direction, “I guess not…”

 

“Huh.”  Hadon accepts the bowl, starts picking out only the meat and leaving everything else behind, “You nervous?”

 

“I…”  Chanyul opens his mouth, but he can’t believe it, can’t form the words.

 

How can Hadon ask him that so calmly?

 

How can Hadon look like finding every possible scrap of chicken in that damn bowl is just as important to him as their stages today?

 

Hadon’s not stupid.  He must know, he must understand.

 

But if he does, how can he just sit there and eat?

 

There’s so much riding on today.  They have to do well, they have to get some screentime, they can’t afford to make even a single mistake.  Sure, every other contestant with them on Produce101 will feel the same way, but most of them can’t understand.  

 

They’re all so _young_.

 

Hadon and Chanyul aren’t, at least in comparison.  

 

And they definitely aren’t trainees.

 

This isn’t a first chance, not like it is for the rest of them.  The way things are going, this might be their last chance, and if they blow things today-

 

“Are you?”  Hadon asks again through a mouthful of food, “Nervous?”

 

“How can you not be?!”  Chanyul forgets for a second that it’s still dark out, that it’s so early that the rest of his group is still sleeping, “Don’t you know that t-today… today we… we have t-to-”

 

“-hyung.”  Hadon calmly swallows his food before cutting Chanyul off.  “You aren’t going to do well today if you’re like this.”

 

Oh great, he couldn’t just stutter, could he?  Now the shaking’s started too.  “Y-you think I don’t know that...?”

 

Hadon gives Chanyul one long, unreadable stare with his sleepy eyes before he rests his spoon gently in his bowl, yawns, stretches, and stands.  “Let me help you, okay?”

 

“Help me?”  Chanyul doesn’t understand, but then Hadon’s beside him and offering him a hand and Chanyul’s accepting it and letting himself be hauled to his feet.  

 

But Hadon doesn’t let go of his hand even when he’s standing, instead gripping Chanyul’s clammy fingers firmly and guiding him around the little table and turning him so they’re standing face to face.

 

Hadon still looks so laid-back as he rests his free hand on Chanyul’s chest, and Chanyul’s so caught up in the way Hadon’s warm strong fingers hold his trembling hand so tight and the way he can feel his own heartbeat pulsing against Hadon’s palm that he doesn’t even realize he’s being pushed in reverse until the backs of his thighs bump up against the kitchen counter.

 

“Hyung… Chanyul.” Hadon’s voice is soft, low, perfectly level, “This okay?”

 

This?

 

What is this?

 

Hadon doesn’t touch.  Not like this.  Hadon doesn’t like to touch.  

 

Beyond Joonyoung, of course.

 

But Chanyul isn’t Joonyoung-hyung, and Hadon’s never been anything more to Chanyul than their quiet subdued (and slightly intimidating) maknae who generally keeps himself to himself.

 

And now he’s holding Chanyul’s hand and squeezing across the back of Chanyul’s knuckles with his thumb and standing close enough to Chanyul that Chanyul can smell his (and Youngjin’s) shaving cream and see the cheap fluorescent lights of their kitchen reflected down the contours of his nose and Chanyul doesn’t know what to think.

 

But maybe that’s the point, because at this exact second the ninety-nine other contestants he has to see so soon are kind of vague and fuzzy in his head, so he nods even though he doesn’t really get it.

 

“W-what-” Chanyul pauses, tries to get that stutter under control, can’t do it when Hadon’s hand slides up his chest and his thumb runs along Chanyul’s jawline, “-what is this, though?”

 

“This-” Hadon shrugs as he steps even closer to Chanyul, so close that their knees brush together, “-is what I do when Joonyoung gets nervous before a show...”

 

“Joonyoung-hyung gets nervous?”  Chanyul’s not sure what he finds harder to believe right now, that their (arguably scary) oldest member can feel fear or that Hadon seems to be pushing his thighs apart gently with his knee.  

 

“Sometimes.”  Hadon murmurs as he shrugs again, and he finally lets go of Chanyul’s hand but now Chanyul doesn’t know where to put it so it just hangs loosely at his side.  “But it’s easy to fix, like this.”

 

The hand that was on Chanyul’s jaw has moved up into his hair, Hadon’s broad fingertips rubbing into the base of his scalp, and Chanyul can see how Joonyoung could find this good, calming.  There’s something kind of nice about the heat coming off of Hadon’s body, just from them being so close, so unusually close, too.  But Chanyul’s kind of guessing that what Joonyoung finds best about all this is how Hadon’s free hand has started to skim along his abdomen, low on his navel, fingers tracing along the waistband of his pyjama pants.

 

“Hyung?”  Hadon’s voice is perfectly level as his fingers dip just a little bit lower, a soft touch to Chanyul’s crotch, “Still okay?”

 

Chanyul gives a quiet gasp as Hadon gently cups him through his pyjamas, reaches behind himself, tries to brace himself against the kitchen counter.  

 

Hadon’s just staring at him, eyes still tired, face impassive, like this is a completely normal thing they do together, like he uses the heel of his hand to grind these slow perfect circles against Chanyul’s soft dick every other morning right before they need to film for Produce101.

 

But it’s not going to be soft for long if Hadon keeps scooping him up in his palm like that, keeps giving these faint little teasing squeezes to his shaft, and honestly how can Hadon be thinking about sex at a time like this?  Doesn’t he care about the show at all?  Doesn’t he think that he should be doing something other than using his hands, his nice warm hands, hands that Chanyul has never really thought that much about before, hands that are strong and masculine and vein-laced, to, to… to… oh, _fuck the show_.

 

“Okay...” Chanyul sucks in a sharp breath as Hadon’s hand wanders even lower, the tips of his fingers now brushing up against his balls through his pants, “It’s okay…”

 

“You sure?”  Hadon asks him so calmly, only maybe the smallest tug upwards of the corners of his lips betraying any sort of emotion as he shifts his hand to roll Chanyul’s sac in his palm.

 

If he thought about it more maybe it wouldn’t be all that okay but how’s he supposed to think like this, when Hadon’s using his fingers to separate his balls and give them each individual attention?

 

“Y-yeah…” Chanyul rasps out, barely managing words at all as Hadon gives his sac a sudden firm tug, clenching his thighs tight around Hadon’s leg between his own.

 

“Good.”  Hadon’s eyes light up just a little, his lips quirk, “I’m sorry though.  We’re gonna have to be kind of quick.”

 

Chanyul doesn’t have time to ask what Hadon’s sorry for because Hadon moves his hand again, gives his cock, now achingly hard and straining against his pants, one last good squeeze through his flimsy pyjamas before withdrawing it completely.  

 

Then the hand that had been so nicely caressing Chanyul’s scalp tightens its grip on Chanyul's hair and Chanyul’s suddenly being pulled forward into Hadon, Chanyul forced to stoop a little so his face can rest in the crook of Hadon’s shoulder.

 

Hadon’s holding him.

 

He’s holding him _so_ close.

 

Chanyul can’t think anymore, all he can do is feel the smooth skin of Hadon’s neck rubbing up against the side of his face and smell Hadon’s old shirt (he smells good, familiar, like their home and their group and the detergent they all use and the shampoo Joonyoung likes and like Youngjin’s mom’s kimchi) because his nose is buried into it and Hadon’s fingertips are digging into the back of his head and holding him there and Chanyul wants to hold him back.

 

But he doesn’t because he feels awkward in this foreign position with an erection in their kitchen at dusk, so he just stands there, crouching, keeping his eyes squeezed shut against Hadon’s collarbone and his hands dangling uselessly at his sides.  At least until Hadon sort of chuckles, deep, shaking Chanyul’s head against his chest.

 

“It’s okay, you can touch.”  Hadon says, and Chanyul does, grateful, wrapping his arms around Hadon, letting his nervous hands settle against Hadon’s broad shoulders.  “And again, I’m sorry.”

 

Chanyul still doesn’t know why and then there’s this wet sputtering noise and Chanyul can’t see but he’s guessing that Hadon’s spitting into his hand and his guess is confirmed when Hadon abruptly shoves the hand not keeping Chanyul’s head pinned in place underneath the waistband of Chanyul’s pyjamas and his spit-slicked hand wraps firmly around Chanyul’s hard cock.

 

Hadon’s not teasing now.

 

He gives one gentle wet stroke to Chanyul’s whole length and then turns his attentions to the head, using his fingers to deftly tug down the foreskin, running the pad of his thumb over the slit and smearing a little bead of precum over the hot skin before taking Chanyul in his palm again, gripping the base of his pulsing erection and pulling.  

 

Hard.

 

So hard that Chanyul’s knees buckle in surprise and he has to clutch at Hadon’s back with enough strength that he’s sure he’ll leave nail marks even through Hadon’s shirt (oh great, explaining that to the show’s stylists will be fun) just to keep himself upright and he cries out, his soft voice muffled by the junction between Hadon’s shoulder and neck.

 

Hadon doesn’t even flinch as he supports Chanyul’s full weight, instead giving fast rough strokes to the base of Chanyul’s cock, the kinds of strokes that slam the side of his hand up against Chanyul’s pelvis and his balls and cause him to whimper and gasp and groan into Hadon’s shirt.

 

There’s nothing now, at this exact moment for Chanyul there’s no show and he’s not a trainee again and he’s not fighting to be picked for anything, there’s nothing but Hadon and the smell of the sweat starting to bead on his neck and his muscled shoulders and his hand, Hadon’s hand, hot, so hot, so strong, sticky with drying spit, pumping Chanyul so hard, so hard, he’s never been jerked off like this, never had anything this rough, this _unforgiving_ before.

 

Chanyul wants to cum, he can’t think, he’s so hot, everything’s so hot, his abdomen is painfully tense, his balls are tight and heavy, he can’t even really breathe because Hadon’s nearly smothering him just to keep him quiet, he can’t even hear anything beyond his own stifled moans and cries and that obscene sound Hadon’s sweaty hand makes as it slaps into Chanyul’s hips, he’s going to actually cry if he doesn’t get to cum soon, it’s too much, too much, he wants to cum, he wants to cum-

 

-and then Hadon pulls him even closer, so close Chanyul can feel Hadon’s heartbeat thrumming through his neck and he does this thing with his hand, three abrupt precise tugs with seconds between them, and on the third Chanyul cums without warning, splattering hot semen in his pants and all over Hadon’s hand.

 

He also sort of maybe bites Hadon really hard on his bare skin right over his collarbone, exposed from Chanyul’s hands pulling desperately at his shirt as he cums.  It’s a complete accident, of course, Chanyul just wanted to stifle a sob and he definitely doesn’t want to give Hadon another weird bruise to try to explain away, but all Hadon does is a let out a soft groan of pain, still holding Yul up and giving his cock firm, tender squeezes until his orgasm’s over.

 

When Hadon seems satisfied that Chanyul’s done he retracts his hands, guides Chanyul back so he’s leaning against the counter again, and is muttering something to himself about “guessing that I needed to change my clothes anyways” while wiping the hand coated in cum on the front of his sweatpants when Chanyul regains enough of his senses to speak.

 

“Uh… so… s-so…” Chanyul’s heart is still thumping hard in his chest and he’s still struggling to catch his breath and his vision’s cloudy, “...do you, uh… want me to do that for you?”

 

Hadon looks up from his pants, half cocks an eyebrow, shakes his head.  

 

“Nah, maybe next time.”  Next time?  “I’ll take care of myself, and you should go get cleaned up.  We’ve got to go soon.”

 

There’s going to be a next time?

 

Chanyul’s face was already beyond pink, but now it feels like it’s flushing red, and Hadon just looks so... normal.

 

If it wasn’t for the sweat shining on his cheeks and the big dilated pupils beneath his heavy eyelids (and the fact that he’s wearing sweats and it’s really hard to hide a boner in grey sweats), Chanyul would never believe the guy had just given him a handjob.

 

“What?”  Hadon catches him staring, meets his eyes, “Don’t tell me you don’t feel any better?”

 

Chanyul does feel better.

 

His stomach isn’t tying itself up in knots and his hands stopped shaking at some point and it’s probably going to be hard to walk for a little bit because all of his limbs feel like jelly, but yeah, he’s better.

 

“No, I do…” Chanyul nods slowly, “...just, uh… thank you…”

 

“Anytime.”  Hadon says it so casually, while looking down at his hand, frowning, and then bringing his hand to his mouth and licking it.

 

Chanyul still can’t believe this guy.

 

Their quiet maknae with his dark hair and even darker eyes and big arms, standing in the kitchen in his slippers and sucking Chanyul’s cum from his fingertips like it’s no big deal.

 

“No, I just…” Chanyul starts, pauses, feels a little embarrassed even after everything but he tries his best not to look at the floor while he talks, “I’m, uh, thankful that you’re on the show with me...  

 

Hadon stops dead still for just a second, gives Chanyul a weird look and Chanyul thinks he might have messed whatever this is up somehow, but then Hadon rolls his eyes and his lips quirk and he steps right back into Chanyul’s personal space.

 

“Yeah, me too.”  Hadon cups Chanyul’s jaw gently with both hands, Chanyul blinks at Hadon in confusion, Hadon blinks back at Yul with no discernible emotion beyond the funny lopsided smile playing on his lips, and then Hadon’s leaning in and his lips are against Chanyul’s for one soft fleeting kiss.  

 

It’s not much of a kiss, really.  Just a quick brush of the lips, a brief taste of salt and sweat and spit, but it’s enough.

 

Enough to shock Chanyul’s eyes wide open, enough to make his breath catch in his throat, and enough to make him think that maybe something good will come from being on this stupid stressful show.

 

Hadon pulls back, face all twisted up like it’s threatening to break into a smile.  “So let’s do well, ‘kay hyung?  Together?”

 

“‘Kay.”  Chanyul nods, decides to be brave, and presses a kiss just as soft as the first one to Hadon’s lips.  

 

And when he pulls away, Hadon’s grinning, and Chanyul smiles right back, thinking that together they just might.

 

 

 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> tbh I think they're both kind of boned already but I wanted to end this on a hopeful note lmao
> 
> So make sure to vote for them! :'3
> 
> also I said I wasn't going to write fics anymore and I don't even want to write fics anymore but oops, fingers slipped and accidentally typed this bullshit, my bad ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


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